


A Light In the Room

by shsl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Other, Rape, Rape Recovery, Slavery, slavestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shsl/pseuds/shsl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For humans in a troll/human blended society, being sold in to sex slavery was a form of privilege. It was the least dangerous form of work for the lesser beings - the difference between the standard of living was that of a lapdog and a mule, but John didn't want to act 'grateful' in any way for the abuse he was receiving. With the help of another slave he meets, he tries to escape the human trafficking business and deal with PTSD from his experiences as well. He was taught it was the best line for humans - who was he to get out? - notes at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Owned

Aliens enslaving humans was supposedly an extremely popular human media story before the two races were actually introduced and the more tyrannical of races drove the humans to defeat. Trolls were far more violent and advanced than the humans were, causing humans to fall in debt once troll society began communicating casually with human society. Eventually humans became workers, then servants, then serfs, and eventually, slaves. Humans were raised like pets, put in very low quality troll clothing and sold off to different trades when they turned six sweeps.  
The trades where all different and usually were decided upon using the human's expected physical health. Where you were sent dictated how long and happy your future would be - but none of them were very glamorous.  
Industrial work, farming, and other slave labor were the most popular lines of work for humans, but were less quality than the other available jobs. Labor was dangerous, physically taxing, and quick to deteriorate strong young humans where they were then culled or sold. The worst of all trades were human's being forced into being soldiers.  
The higher quality industries were in surface things; for example, making clothes or small items.  
The trade most sought after was the sex trade. It was minimal injury, and only richer trolls could afford slaves, so they were kept in luxury.  
Yet, of course, in both human and troll culture sex slavery was still a horror. Rape shadowed the title.  
The humans worked in a harem sort of business, sometimes an entire "harem" being owned by one family, or individuals owned by individual trolls. The humans were used as acute relief objects, ones which created a more docile nature for trolls. Outside of the bedroom, at least, if you could call it that - The paying troll could treat the sex slaves however they'd like as long as they didn't sustain any serious injuries.

Human procreation was bound by the same troll laws that warranted the Imperial Drone, yet a different guardian complex because of the inability of human surrogates to produce at the rate of the Virgin Mother Grub. Even so, some forms of human breeding went on in more populated areas of Alternia.  
Around one in every four hundred human children born were chosen for sex slavery. It was, in some places, seen as privilege.  
John Egbert didn't feel privileged when visited by authorities to be informed of his line of work. It happened quite a bit of time after his sixth birthday, and for a small, sweet amount of time he truly believed he may have slipped through the cracks. It could happen - right?  
Wrong.  
Two men showed up at the doorstep of their human hive in the cobalt blue coats worn during recruitments (to remind humans of their authority and their relatively high place on the hemospectrum which far exceeded the place for humans in the Alternian social and regal hierarchy.) Signed and stamped in bright red ink, the papers they bore indicated the purchase of John Egbert as a sex slave in a city brothel.

With nothing to say that could possibly have the slightest effect on his current position, the drive into the city was long and quiet. He knew he should feel grateful; He was moving onto what was a life of luxury for a young human boy like himself. But he didn't - He knew that with this luxury came degradation he'd have to endure for what would probably be multiple times daily.  
He was only a child, and though the standard of living was low for his race, he knew the gravity of sex the way it was socially constructed and the effect it would have on him in the long run.  
He felt ashamed for any sexual urges he'd ever had himself - because feelings like that were responsible for why he would never see his Dad again. It was too much future sprung on a kid too fast. This was his life now, his existence, his legacy - He existed only to be used and trying to change that was futile. He wouldn't be remembered as anything other than a good fuck for a fleeting moment.   
A big flaw in human nature is that they are all born to believe they are special, no matter their living conditions. The biggest trauma a human can undergo is when that thought is shaken. Now, his existence as a human made his importance minimal and his story evanescent.   
Suddenly, John wished someone in the car would say something. The silence provided too much time to think.  
It took a sizeable chunk of the day to complete the trip, but they arrived at the large city home before the sun was down.


	2. Luxury

The house was large and awfully fancy for what went on there. It was comparable to a manor, despite its urban location, and its design mimicked a high-class version of a human's home. The foyer extended past large white doors to a common room of sorts, with lots of space, floral-patterned seating, and a fireplace. From each side of the room extended a smaller hallway, leading off to rows of decently sized bedrooms. At the end of each, there was a large, white staircase, leading up to the next floor, which doubled back around to lead up to the top floor with yet another set of bedrooms. The home housed 15 courtesans, including John, but could easily accommodate another 15 along with the masters of the house.  
As John entered, wrists held loosely by his highblood escorts, he was surprised by the home's level of quality - much cleaner than the pig sty of a whore house he'd been expecting. No, it looked very high-class and expensive, if he did say so himself, even compared to other troll properties. He wanted, for a moment, to feel grateful for living in a nice place like this. He knew he probably should be, and not being so was awfully cocky for someone so privileged. He could only imagine the living conditions of other humans his age; what they'd have to go through to earn another day of living. He didn't want to think about it much - being there hurt enough on its own.  
When they entered the common room, John tried to keep his eyes away from the other humans dressed up in revealing, high quality clothing. He failed for the majority of the time, curiously checking out his peers. There were both boys and girls there, all older than him, looking absolutely content with their current situation, which made John a bit uncomfortable. They were so passive, and he wondered if they had scars which proved why.  
When his attention finally broke away from the peacocking humans, he noticed the non-verbal communication going on between the two blue blooded officials who had brought him here. They nodded at eachother, giving some kind of signal that caused one to let go, handing John off to his counterpart.  
The large man, now in complete and independent control of John, led him up to the second floor, the second door, into the room which John then assumed was his. Once John was inside, the man left without a word, promptly discarding the responsibility.  
Inside the room, there was a dresser, a large bed, ample space between the two, and John. Without much direction, John spent the next unmeasurable chunk of time sitting on the bed and looking around the room with what was reluctant awe. It was a nice place; A REALLY nice place. Too nice for him.  
Eventually, his door opened, and without much notice at that. It startled the thinking boy and he quickly reacted, turning his head round to find a young jadeblood at the door, dressed in a thick, conservative white dress. She was quite plump and jolly looking, wearing a little green ascot and shoes to match the soft jade glow behind her cheeks. She stepped inside the room with a smile, closing the door and turning to face John.  
"Yooou must be theeee new one." Her 'you' and 'the' were drawn out to a point, emphasizing the phrase strangely. John stared at her for a moment before realizing he was supposed to respond.  
"Yes! Yes, ma'am." He gave her a weak, discouraged smile, batting his thick eyelashes at her in an attempt to appeal. She put out a hand, looking him as close to the eyes as a troll would a human.  
"Come on, we muuuuust get you washed up."  
He took her hand out of courtesy, letting her lead him out of the room to the next floor. This floor had the most rooms, including the master's, and the washroom. It was in the center of the hall, with two large, dark doors. Behind it was a dimly-lit room with six claw-footed tubs, and a washing-drying system for the clothes and sheets.  
The lady ran the water in the first tub, which clunked out at strange intervals and steamed as though it was boiling. Though, it was probably just because the room was significantly colder than it should've been. Once it was three-fourths of the way filled, she turned off the tap and stood up straight, directing her attention to John.  
"Remove your clothes," she instructed, turning around and opening the cabinet behind her for some steel wool and soap. She said it nonchalantly, like it wasn't a big deal - For John, it was!  
His eyes widened in surprise, frustration, and embarrassment, arms crossing over his chest protectively. Nuh uh.  
When she turned back around and saw him, she gave him a sigh and a shake of the head. "I'm sorry, but you muuuust remove your clothing and bathe. You know the consequences of misbehaving." She bent down over the water and gave the soap a small squeeze, stirring it with her fingers before turning to grab a bottle and a dropper. "I took the time to make sure you wouldn't have to bathe in front of five others on your first day, so please work with me." She added two little drops of whatever was in the bottle and stepped back from the tub.  
It was his job to comply, they both knew that, and the punishment would be much worse than the trivial act at hand. Still, he couldn't bring himself to remove his clothing.  
After a thirty second silence, the woman came around and lifted John's shirt off of him herself. He moved at her force fluidly, going on to remove his pants himself once his shirt had been removed. Of course, he was quick to cover himself once he could, looking at her for direction as he shifted his weight anxiously.  
"You can get in the tub," she laughed warmly, tapping the rim with her manicured nails. With a small, obedient nod, he lowered himself into the tub, using all of his strength and power not to hiss at the warmth. "You're going to have to remove your hands from your genitals eventually," she reminded him once fully submerged. She talked so literally and bluntly.  
He didn't give her a response other than moving his hands and eyes away from his pelvic area, feeling his flaccid penis float up a bit, awkwardly enough. He cleared his throat and looked towards her, absolutely mortified, but doing what had to be done.  
"May I please have some soap?" He asked, watching her eyes go from his junk to the soap beside her.  
"Yes, _sir._ " She giggled, handing the bottle to John and sitting back to 'supervise' him. He couldn't quite figure out what she was implying; did she think he was androgynous, or well endowed?  
It was strange to be looked at this way; He'd been taught that privates were privates and his virginity held some kind of integrity. Now he was baring all and there was nothing special about it; It didn't belong to him anymore, and he couldn't let go of the idea that what he had before now was important.  
He scrubbed himself down and washed his hair, no longer controlled by the embarrassment, but feeling what it had kept him from pitting in his stomach.  
He dried off, not without help from his overly insistent caretaker, and returned to his room as clean as a whistle. The woman picked out silk pajamas for John to sleep in, watched him change into them, and wished him goodnight.  
When he got into bed, the high quality bedding, the smell of ambergris, and the reality of the rest of his life was suffocating. He didn't like this kind of luxury, not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh tell me how this was please!


	3. Taboo

The next morning, John was coaxed from his slumber by the smell of breakfast. It filled the room, teasing him with the pleasures of filling his empty stomach with greasy, gourmet foodstuffs. Despite it's presence, which invaded his senses, John knew quite well what going downstairs meant. To eat with the others meant starting the day, and starting the day meant performing. Fear made something cold and hard drop in his stomach, and fear alone was more than enough to keep him in bed that morning.  
He wasn't sure why the idea of sex put him on edge. He'd learned enough about it from the world around him that it was never really nature's secret. It was just another fact of life, which, from what he'd heard, could be immensely enjoyable for both parties.  
  
Still, in his mind, sex was a taboo untouchable by any other force. It hung over him and his new life like an opaque blanket, refusing to let any shed-able light past John's barriers and reservations. The fear John felt when the subject of sex came up had an impenetrable grip on his ability to function, even if he tried to will it away. He wanted to be comfortable, wanted to accept it, wanted to stop feeling like he was taking his privilege for granted and just meet the expectations of his peers... but he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried to wrap his head around the idea of sex being nothing but another customary practice.  
He wanted to believe his body was a temple, and making it perform sexually without the intimacy and security he'd been assured of, or even his own consent, was wrong in every single way. He was supposed to be loved with sex, treated with sex, slow with sex. Instead, he was degraded with sex, shamed with sex, hurt with sex. It could never live up to it's sensationalized reputation, at least not for him. He was a living, breathing masturbatory object, and though he was born into this world with all of the optimism, potential, and dreams as any other being with the same capacity for consciousness, it was all he would ever be.  
  
Sex slaves weren't allowed to retire, weren't allowed to fall in love. In fact, John wasn't sure any of the residents had seen the outside world since the day they'd been escorted in, even the ones working well into their life. A real significant part of being alive had been taken away from them without a second glance. No protest was allowed on the matter.  
John let himself stew in his thoughts for a good ten minutes, stripping him in the opportunity to drift back in to his former slumber. With his clearer, more alert mind, he convinced himself that getting up and filling his stomach with quality food would suck less than being forced from his room, even with the implied subsequent sexual activities. Who knew, maybe they'd go easy on him.  
He ran his hands over the sheets, sitting up in his spot blinking a couple times while he attempted to bring himself back into the present moment. His throat was a bit tight, feeling alive all the way down into his anxious stomach. Every time he breathed, the air tickled his lungs and gave him the impulse to laugh, yawn, or pee. Present now, he used his fingers to card through his hair and attempt to fix the messy black down into what one could barely call a hairstyle.  
  
After sorting out that portion of his appearance, he moved his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down with a feather light thud. The rest of his body followed suit, and once steady, he began to walk towards the vanity atop his dresser. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took a good look in the mirror.  
The powder pink silk pajamas actually suited him quite nicely. Unlike most of his pants at home, they didn't hang off his hips and make him appear small as he drowned in his fathers worn hand-me-downs. The top was short sleeved, loose, and dove down his chest with a V of skin exposure. When he moved it didn't pull tight or bunch up around his arms; it just slid against his skin with a smoothness he'd never really felt before. Most of his clothing was coarse, thick, and sometimes rough, made to withstand a lifetime of near-daily use. This fabric was nothing like that. In a bout of curiosity, John lifted his hand to his falling collar and rubbed the silk between his fingers, fascinated by his texture, smiling and laughing at just how nice it felt. He hadn't noticed it the last night after a long, tiresome day, but now it was amusing him.  
As he played with the fabric between his fingers, the large, dark door to his room opened without a knock. In the doorway was the jade-blooded woman he'd spent time with the night before, and beside her, a young and cheery looking red-blood. He could only tell her place on the hemospectrum from the rosy color of her cheeks. She wasn't very plump, so the excess coloring of her cheeks seemed to be of something else. From the way she smiled at John, he figured excitement.  
  
His hand fell from his collar to his side, and he moved towards them the moment the jadeblood's hand raised to beckon him. This new girl was taller than him, but him and the jadeblood were about the same height.  
  
She stopped him around a foot away from where they stood and smiled when John proved obedient. He looked up at her expectantly, giving a false smile as a non-verbal good morning. She returned the smile happily, turning to the woman besides her.  
  
"This is Madora, our newest nurse. She's excited to meet all of you, as you can tell." The both of them giggled, and looked at eachother like they knew something he didn't. "Breakfast is being served. You should get into your clothes for the day and hurry downstairs. It'd be a shame to get in trouble on your first day." She gave him a sympathetic smile and guided Madora out of the way so she could shut the door and leave John alone to get ready.  
  
He returned to his previous spot, a little more relaxed after getting a warm-hearted greeting from the two staff members. Although, their muttering and giggling as they left his door was a bit embarrassing.  
Clueless to whatever it was they were talking about and determined not to care, he busied himself by filing through his clothes drawers.  
The first made a rolling noise as he pulled it out, revealing that the contents of the drawer were larger, mobile objects, rather than clothes. He closed that one without looking into it and opened the next. It seemed like he had all the stuff he needed, really; Socks, underwear, pants, shirts, and a couple of weird outfits he didn't want to question.  
  
Once he'd decided on what to wear, he stripped down and quickly stuffed himself into each article of clothing. He looked at himself in the mirror, smoothing the black shirt he'd chosen over his torso. He looked pretty nice, really, if he was to ever admit that to himself. The shirt was a bit small, but he doubted it wasn't intentional. In fact, his own size was probably a large factor of why he was chosen to pursue the sex trade. His small stature made him easy to dominate, and trolls were an extremely dominant and aggressive culture, both inside and outside of the bedroom.  
  
He tried not to think about all of that yet. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he would go downstairs and enjoy a breakfast with the others. He had no doubt that this could not-insufferable if he chose to make it that way, and be the obedient, compliant pet his owners had signed off on. But John Egbert simply was not that boy.  
  
His father had taught him to value himself, even in these trying times. He didn't know what would happen to his Dad, but he knew his Dad would be proud of him for preserving his autonomy, and fighting the idea that he was to be owned. He knew where his race stood, but he didn't have to let them take him alive, did he?  
  
  
Leaving his spot and his thoughts behind, he left the room and made his way down the two flights of stairs which led him to the main floor. The dining hall was through another pair of double doors on the far left of the main floor, towards the left staircase. He put his right hand on the metal plate, pushing the heavy doors open to a room full of activity.

There were two long tables, either side of each occupied by humans boys and girls. Down the middle were large plates of food which the boys and girls were taking from as they ate and chat amongst themselves. They seemed to all be happy. The room was buzzing with positive energy, and the most of them seemed to get along well with the others.

John tried not to draw attention to himself as he walked in the room and straight to one of the only empty chairs left at the table, taking a seat and staring blankly at his plate. He didn't want to look around the room too much; The other humans were, in fact, pretty intimidating. They were all quite small, but a lot of them were strikingly attractive and.. personalized. A few wore collars with their names on them, and some nice, shiny jewelry he assumed was given to them by the masters. One of the collared humans had a bruise on the side of their neck, which John stared it without realizing what it was for a good minute. Once he did, he directed his eyes back to his plate and stared at the blank white china.

Madora appeared behind him and dished him some eggs and bacon, along with a glass of apple juice. He raised his head to thank her, and nod at her in appreciation of what she'd given him. She shot him a warm smile and moved on to filling the cups of the rest of the humans on his side of the table. He watched her go down the line until she got the end and began walking back.

As she left that end of the table, the doors behind her open and she turned around with a smile far wider than the one she'd giving John. Coming in through the doors was a collared human dressed in just a wifebeater and small red shorts. As John's eyes drifted up from his outfit, they saw his face. He was attractive, too.

He turned his head, blonde hair falling to the side as he did.

"You didn't forget about me, did ya?" He asked, giving Madora a wink and walking up to her. He grabbed a cup from the table and held it up with a wide smile.

"Who could forget about you, Dave?" She replied, pouring his cup.

She was right. Even long after Dave finished off the bottle of apple juice and went back up to bed, John just couldn't get him out of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh jesus, alright, this took me way too long to write. I haven't written and posted something in at least three years; Hoping I can make this campy and.... not too sad. But you know me, I'm literally made of angst.  
> Please R&R and stuff, yes, appreciated.


End file.
